


Call and Answer

by chemiglee



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemiglee/pseuds/chemiglee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve scenes in the friendship of Kurt and Tina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call and Answer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catyuy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catyuy/gifts).



> Title taken from the song "Call and Answer" by the Barenaked Ladies.
> 
> Beta'd by the amazing amongsoulsandshadows on Tumblr.

The first thing Tina notices about him is his cobalt-blue moto styled jacket.   It brings out the pink in his cheeks, and the touch of black at the edge of his collar stands out against the shirt.  You can tell he’s not wearing it just because it’s expensive looking.   He’s wearing it because it’s him, because he wants to wear it, because he wants to say something significant, and that’s rare.  

She looks down at her own outfit. She’d spent a long time in front of her bedroom mirror this morning, making sure her jewelry was just so, making sure the whole ensemble explained to the world exactly how gloomy she felt.  Dark.   Her mom had suggested jeans and mid-heel brown leather boots, or an H&M blue plaid skirt and a slim white blouse.   “You can wear what you want, honey,” she’d said, thrusting some polka dot ballet flats into her lap,  “but McKinley kids always notice your clothes.  And this would look so cute at your audition.”

She’d shrugged, though, turned off that crazy bit of hope and reached, instead, for unrelieved black, the lace, the chains. Because all that pretty, floofy stuff wasn’t her, and since it wasn’t, what was the point?  It was either wear something she believed in or wear nothing, and besides, today, at that audition, she was going to sing something bold, something that would get her noticed in a fresh, strong, interesting way.  The song would be her touch of magic.  Maybe she wouldn’t have to change a single thing otherwise.  Sing the thing instead, and everything else should follow.

The boy is also fresh, strong, and interesting.  Lonely.    He’s got depth, unexpected possibilities, anger. Tina likes that, and if she could muster up the courage she’d try to go say hello, but the kid’s already gotten noticed, and not in the best way.   

He’s surrounded by hulking football jocks, all pointing and laughing at him, like donkeys.  She gives the scene a quick lift of her brow before she remembers herself enough to turn away.  She finds a hiding space, behind a tree, and peeks out.

It wasn’t like she was in a hurry to get to school, anyway.  She’d already spent most of this week getting lost, sitting alone at lunch, blinking and stuttering when well-meaning teachers tried to bring her out of her shell.  Best not to stick out, so, instead of standing up for him (and then a frightening surge of anger comes: s _he wants to just jump in and slap the stupid out of all of them_ ),  the will dies in its footsteps, and the words don’t rush out.

She doesn’t have to look back to know they’re going to haul him up and swing him, like a sack of potatoes, into that nasty dumpster.   She doesn’t have to, but she watches.  He still manages to look haughty even as he looks down, then side to side, defiant.  He’s putting on a brave face, but he pulls it off.  “One day, you will all work for me.”  The jocks even let him remove the jacket first.   Tina silently cheers.  She knows he’s not joking. 

\- - - - -

The first thing Kurt notices about her is that silver lock necklace.  Of course, he notices the unrelieved punky dull stripes, that black pleated skirt,  the studded leather bracelets, the netted fingerless gloves, the heavy boots, and that thick woolen cap, too.  

He’d just gotten a quick look at her as she strode into the auditorium with the biggest steps she could muster.  He was stalking out, confident that he’d nailed it.  But, instead of just leaving, he hesitated, decided on the spur of the moment to stay, so he slipped into an aisle seat, halfway up.  The accompanist started up Katy Perry, and he crossed his legs and tapped his fingers on his knee as she started to sing.

She bellows the words out like she’s trying to shake your shoulders with them.  It’s a difficult song, but she sounds strong, even if it doesn’t entirely convince you that she kissed a girl and liked it.  She’s trying a little too hard to be memorable.  Which is funny, because she’s in his geometry class and there she does her best to be invisible, even in those clothes.

 _There, we’re different._  He could just take wardrobe tips from his dad, or from the jocks, or from the sea of ordinary teenagers swarming the halls, but fuck, if he did, he’d be letting someone else dictate what he wore, and that was something he’d never do.  So he’d go ahead and flaunt it, the fact that he’s his own person, whole and complete, even if it was so achingly lonely being proud that he’d clutch Bruce the pillow at night and wish everything was... something else.  

The girl shakes her finger at the audience.  Kurt stifles a laugh, but not to mock.  She just seems so serious about it, but, then again, _Mr. Cellophane_ was serious, too.

He remembers how, yesterday, those apes were gunning for him, in the passing period between French and chemistry, with another freshly icy slushie - but she’d been behind him, so when he ducked, she got the full treatment instead. They’d laughed as tears pooled in her eyes, even after she’d whirled around, stumbled towards the girls’ bathroom on the other end of the hall, while everyone else ignored her or sneaked in a giggle.

Maybe he should have gone after her to towel her off, but it wouldn’t have taken the humiliation away.  Part of him wanted to just grab them by those tired letterman jackets and shake them furiously:   _Are you that unkind and uncivilized or are you just a cretin?_  But he didn’t.  Kurt wanted to be safe, too.

She finishes the song.  She knows she nailed it, so she doesn’t need Kurt’s congratulations or the confirmation that she got in. He hops out of the seat before Mr. Schue starts speaking, and the last thing he thinks of, before the auditorium doors close and he turns his mind forward to the delicious prospect of shopping with Mercedes, is the pendant around her neck, and the key she needs to unlock it.

\- - - - -

“Hey, Tina.”  The pause is awkward.

“Hey, Kurt.”   

He’s closer to Mercedes, and she usually eats lunch with Artie and Rachel.   Still, Kurt had asked her to come over, and he and she and Brittany had had so much fun learning the Single Ladies dance that the afternoons had just whipped by them, carefree. Then they’d gone through Kurt’s closet, and oohed and ahhed over his finds.  And there are times, during rehearsal, when Kurt’s loneliness radiates through him and she hears the waves of it lapping restlessly onto shore.  She’s been there.  Artie is so nice, but it’s weird when he looks at her, and Kurt, by contrast, feels - at least right now - more of a kindred spirit.  And definitely not weird.   

Tina rolls over on her bedspread and fiddles with tomorrow’s hair extensions.  This call smells like pretext.   She hates small talk.  She can tell Kurt doesn’t like it either, but at least it’ll help her push away what’s bothering her.  Bernadette Peters drifts in over the line, and Tina flails at that dangling end of possible conversation starter it provides.  “What are you listening to?”

“ _Gypsy_ ,” he says.  “I love it, don’t you?  Vaudeville, Rose as that over-the-top stage mom, all that delicious, complicated drama.”  He crunches his way through something that sounds like popcorn.  

“I love drama,”  Tina admits, “but I’m not really into S-S-Sondheim.  My mom’s the one who plays _Into the Woods_.”  She adjusts the phone in one hand and holds the pink strands up to the recess light, between thumb and forefinger.

Kurt laughs, but his voice is soft and lilting and kind.  Maybe it’s just her wishful thinking, but he sounds ready to listen.  “What’s _your_ wish, Little Red Riding Hood?”

Tina pushes the feeling out, but it’s not that much of a struggle, despite the corner of her heart that still cries at the thought of today’s lunchtime slushie trickling redly, icily, down the front of her shirt.   Kurt gets the same slushies, though.  Kurt gets it, so she dives in.  “I’d be happy if I c-could be seen.”  

Abrupt.  Too emotional?  But it’s okay; he makes a m-hm-hmm murmur of sympathy. This was all turning out well for a spontaneous admission to someone who wasn’t a friend friend, so she stumbles onward.  “I want to be bold and - and out there and be me and then I feel like - like I just can’t, at school.  You - you know.”   

And Tina’s face crumples as her whole foot falls in her mouth.   _Duh, maybe Kurt doesn’t want to be reminded about being out - or in - there_.  The longest second there ever was creeps on by, and Tina waits on tenterhooks, wondering if she’d stepped over the line.  Kurt puts down his bowl with a metallic bang to end it.  “It’s okay.  We can talk about it, a little bit.”

Tina flails around again, imagining the hurt.  “I - I mean, my stuff isn’t as - isn’t as bad as your stuff - I mean, not that your stuff is bad, it’s tough, I can only imagine - “

“It’s a lot for both of us,”  and she can feel a quiver in Kurt’s voice, breaking the still surface of it. “We want to express ourselves.  Without being bullied for who we are.”  His voice resonates with conviction.  “We’ll run that school one day, and then we’ll put all of those Lima cretins behind us.”

“I knew - I know you get it.  And I promise, I won’t tell anyone, and - and I know Mercedes is your best friend - “

“It’s so hard,”  Kurt says, and  there’s a hard and bitter edge to his voice.  “I like boys.  I’m never going to love girls.   I’m - I’m afraid of what my dad will say.  I’m different.  And I want to be an artist.   And I don’t want to be stuck in this town.  And I know I’m smarter than they are.”

Tina knows who they are, and the red and white uniforms they wear, but Kurt doesn’t have the market on fear, and she’s on the wrong end of injustice, too, every day.  She’s so sure of what she says that she forgets to stutter.  “I’m different, too.  I look at magazine covers and I don’t see anyone on them that looks like me.  It’s like we’re, you and I, we’re invisible here, but you can leave and be a performer and nobody will think twice about it  Me?  They’ll think I can’t do it.”

“Who cares what they think, Tina?  We’ll just have to tell them what to think.”   Kurt puts up a brave front.

“I know.  I just don’t know how to do that.”

“Me, neither.  We’ll figure it out together.”   He changes the subject:   “Thanks for covering for me with my dad. I had to grab you like meat to make it work, but - “

“Don’t worry about it,”  Tina says kindly, and flings the hair extension away.  She holds the phone closer to her ear.  “Until you can talk to him. Or get another girlfriend.  Right?”

“At least I have my Runway Rumors blog,” Kurt sighs.

“You have one?”  Tina squeals.  “I love Project Runway.”

\- - - - -

“Hey, Kurt.”

“Hi, Tina.  Do you have your costume ready?”

“I was born ready.  You’ll love it.”

“It’ll be flawless.  As usual.”   He doesn’t always get Tina’s fashion sense, actually, but he respects how hard she works to look as she does.  Tina, for her part, is usually happy to concede ultimate fashion supremacy to him - he with that eye for cut and line and color to best flatter all figures - but she knows enough to critique design and she’ll tell him the truth about an avant-garde sweater or a shade of green that’s not the right kind of green for his skin tone.

Kurt hits send.  Tina looks down at the grainy picture on her screen.  

“How long did it take for you to bedazzle those shoes?”  She muffles a giggle.

“Just as long as it took you to sew the balls on your dress.”  

Tina makes a half-snort, half giggle.  “It’s perfect, Kurt.  Don’t change a thing.  But at least my feet won’t be hurting tomorrow.”  

He hates it when she’s right, but, at the same time, she knows just how important it is to pay attention to details, fulfill the demands of the costume for the ultimate in verite.  She won’t condemn him or try to talk him out of it.  It’s just what you have to do to look good.  You have to suffer a little, put in the work, and support your fellow Gagas when they need it.  Gagas know each other, and Gagas stand by each other.

\- - - - -

Mercedes is his best friend, and he becomes better friends with Rachel, even if he and Rachel fight for dominance all the time in Glee.   He still doesn’t forget about Tina.  When she gets in these moods, you just have to ambush her.  

“You should go,”  Kurt insists. “I know Rachel invited you, and it’s been so long since we sang together, just us.”

“Hi to you too, Kurt.  I’ve got piano and tap class,”  Tina protests.  “And we’ll go shopping with her and Mercedes tomorrow and I promise we can talk about Blaine then.”

“Really? Are you sure this isn’t you ditching your friends to go hang out with Mike?”

“Yes, really,”  she says evasively, which would have fooled everyone else if they heard her. But Mercedes would have picked up on it, and Kurt definitely picks up on it.  Tina sails on.  “Mike’s not even going to be available.  He says he has to go do some special Asian dinner with his grandparents.  I don’t even know all the lunar festivals that Mike says actually exist.”

It’s her instincts talking.  She just wants to withdraw and relish the comfort that having a little space of your own provides.  After all, she knows he knows her piano teacher doesn’t hold lessons on Friday nights, and they had rehearsal this afternoon, so she won’t want to go to tap, and he also knows she gets the same intent, absorbed look on her face, sewing as they do, together, on his mom’s machine or on her mom’s machine,  when she reads, and the book she’s fathoms deep in must be a really good one. Kurt smiles to himself and gives up the ghost.  “Okay, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

\- - - - -

Tina waits until the next day to call.  After all, he might be busy with Blaine.

“That was really brave, what you did,”  she says sympathetically.  “Mike said as much.”

 _Mike can tell me himself,_  Kurt thinks, but he’s still a little euphoric after last night, so it’s easy to tamp down on that tiny mite of irritation.  Blaine is the best, sweetest, most charming, most supportive, most romantic boyfriend ever.   And Mike is a great guy, but Tina just seems too wrapped up in this to care much about anything else.  She’s still the same sweet and supportive friend she’s always been, but she hasn’t been entirely herself, either.  Has she?  Kurt, for the hundredth time, thinks he isn’t sure of that.  He’s been busy too, you know.

“Thanks, Tina,”  he says.  

“I just admire that so much,”  she replies.  “I don’t know if I could have done it.  Maybe if Mike was there for me.”  

“Blaine helped me through it.”  Kurt’s toes curl up at the thought of Blaine and his romantic gestures and his bravery too:  Blaine had been bullied and beaten up at a dance and been afraid, too, but they’d both faced everyone - and won.

“We have amazing boyfriends,” Tina gushes.  “Aren’t we so lucky?”

“It isn’t luck, Miss Tina Cohen-Chang.  It’s us. We’ve arrived.”  Kurt puts that tone in his voice, which makes them both laugh their heads off.  For a minute there it’s like they’re back there, surrounded by kids, tucked away in a corner with Artie and Mercedes and Rachel, picking at trays of grayish cafeteria lunch.   But after they stop giggling, Kurt’s all of a sudden at a loss as to what to say next.  They haven’t talked much lately.

\- - - - -

Kurt hears about it, too, but not from Tina.   Not even a text.  After a week’s worth of total radio silence and her _I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it_ sullen face and Mercedes and Rachel turning up on her doorstep yelling for her (banging on the door for what felt like hours until her mom chased them away), it finally dawns on him to try to call.  

He doesn’t expect anything, but she picks up on the sixth ring.

“Hey, Kurt.”

“You want to talk about it?”

She doesn’t answer.  A door slams, and she turns on the water in the bathtub (bathtub?) and the roar of it mercifully prevents both she and he from having to start up an actual conversation.

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking a bath.  I love you, but that mental image can’t possibly survive our friendship.”

“Shut up, Kurt,”  she snaps, voice cracking like a whip.  “I don’t want to talk to you and I don’t want your pity and I don’t want to hear about your fucking perfect boyfriend.”  

“Geez Louise, Tina.  Rude much? Stop pushing people away, so they can help you.”

“You and Blaine haven’t always been talking, have you?  There’s not that much you two could teach me.”

“What are you doing?”  he counters, mostly to distract her from the sensitive topic of him and Blaine, which is so very private and so not her business.  She always manages to poke at those tender spots, and it hurts.  Well, she’s hurt.  And rude, but at least she’s talking now.   He makes a valiant effort (shit, it’s hard) not to sass her back, but Tina, weirdly, has multiple avenues of information, and although he wasn’t the one who told her, it figures she knew about all the Chandler mess, anyway.  She does a lot of observing.

“Well?”  he prompts, a minute or so after he hears splashing close by.

“I’m taking care of my new tattoo.  I have to keep it clean, or it’ll get infected and gross.”

“What did you get?”

“Make Change Forever.” Tina makes a heavy huff of breath.

“I’m coming over,”  Kurt says forcefully.  “ _Right now_.  And don’t you dare set your mom on me.”

“Why?”  she says.  Her loneliness is palpable.

“Because you’d do it for me,”  Kurt says simply.  “You’re my friend.”

“Fine,”  Tina says grudgingly.   “I guess.  I’ll even put on nice clothes for you.”

“Thank God for that,” he retorts.  And instead of snapping back,  Tina just laughs, a short sharp bark of it.

\- - - - -

**From:  Tina  (8:03 PM, Oct 7)**

It’s all over school.  Are you okay?

**From:  Tina (8:21 PM, Oct 7)**

I’m still here.  I’m not going away.

**From:  Tina (8:32 PM, Oct 7)**

KURT. :(  :(  :(

**From:  Kurt (8:48 PM, Oct 7)**

What the hell?

**From:  Kurt (8:52 PM, Oct 7)**

Just leave well enough alone, Tina Cohen-Chang.  You don’t have to know everything.

**From:  Tina (8:52 PM, Oct 7)**

I’ve been through a painful breakup, remember? The distance broke _us_ up, too.

**From: Kurt (8:53 PM, Oct 7)**

No, it didn’t.  And please stop fishing.

**From:  Tina (8:53 PM, Oct 7)**

Don’t try to deflect.  So what was it?

**From: Kurt (8:53 PM, Oct 7)**

It was distance. Sort of.

**(Voicemail) Tina (8:54 PM, Oct 7)**

I hate it when you get all evasive, even though I’m going to find out anyway, so you might as well talk to me because breaking up with the love of your life is hard, and I know how it feels when you’re left behind.  So, come on.  I know it hurts.  <click>

**From: Kurt (9:16 PM, Oct 7)**

Blaine didn’t leave me behind.  

**From:  Tina (9:16 PM, Oct 7)**

From where I’m standing it looks like you both did.  

**(Voicemail) Kurt (9:32 PM, Oct 7)**

Rachel and I are going to drown our sorrows in cheesecake and Chinese.  I’ll talk to you later. 

**From:  Tina (9:34 PM, Oct 7)**

I don’t know if you will, but I’m here if you need me.  

**From:  Kurt (9:35 PM, Oct 7)**

...Rude.

**From: Tina (9:35 PM, Oct 7)**

I’m being honest.   I’m here if you want to talk about it, and I’ll listen.  You’d do it for me.

**From: Kurt (9:35 PM, Oct 7)**

Thanks.

\- - - - -

Rachel and Kurt are so complementary, even when they’re fighting, that he doesn’t have to call Tina back.  And anyway, it gains an additional layer of complicated after that, because of Blaine.  Even though they still keep it light, texting about Glease, first, then just generic gossip (because  Santana’s lesbian beer garden gig is news), there’s still a lot more they don’t say.

Eventually, it gets easier not to say anything.

Tina hangs up a picture of she and Blaine, together, up on the inside of her locker door.  She dances an excited little jig when she relives  the memory of his arm, strong and sure and soft, about her shoulders.  She doesn’t, as she desperately wants to, draw a red Sharpie heart around their beaming faces, and she doesn’t call Kurt, because that’s not discreet, either.  After all, it would really hurt him if he found out that she and Blaine were going to be in a (sexless) relationship.  Kurt has other friends, anyway, and maybe it would sound better from them, not her.  

\- - - - -

**From:  Tina (11:07 pm, Feb 14)**

I’m still so embarrassed.  Fuck.

**From:  Kurt (11:11 pm, Feb 14)**

He’s forgiven you, so there’s nothing else to say. I promise we still love you.

**From:  Tina (11:13 pm, Feb 14)**

Are you pissed? Be honest.

**From:  Kurt (11:13 pm, Feb 14)**

No. Well, I was.  You need some friends there, is all.  You’ve been lonely.

**From:  Tina (11:14 pm, Feb 14)**

I owe you an apology.  I’m sorry for ambushing you at the reception.

**From:  Kurt (11:14 pm, Feb 14)**

No, you don’t owe me anything.  That’s ridiculous.  And I bit your head off, so I’m sorry, too.   Even though I told you the cold, hard truth.

**From:  Tina (11:25 pm, Feb 14)**

**…**

**From:  Kurt (11:25 pm, Feb 14)**

Friends tell each other the truth because they care.

**From:  Tina (11:25 pm, Feb 14)**

I told you the truth, too.  Cold, hard facts.

**From:  Kurt (11:25 pm, Feb 14)**

**…**

**From:  Tina (11:27 pm, Feb 14)**

You don’t have to say anything else.   You know I’m right.

**From:  Tina (11:28 pm, Feb 14)**

...So was the sex good?

**From:  Kurt (11:28 pm, Feb 14)**

Don’t try to deflect, Tina Cohen-Chang.  And you’re wrong.

**From: Tina (11:28 pm, Feb 14)**

I’m happy for you. :)  Blaine’s perfect.

**From:  Kurt (11:29 pm, Feb 14)**

We’ll find a boyfriend for you. :)

**From:  Tina (11:29 pm, Feb 14)**

It’s so cute when boyfriends have a mutual interest in getting me a boyfriend.

**From: Kurt (11:29 pm, Feb 14)**

We’re not boyfriends.

**From: Tina (11:30 pm, Feb 14)**

Don’t lie to yourself.

**From:  Kurt (11:30 pm, Feb 14)**

Butt out, Tina.  I’m saying that from a position of love.

**From: Tina (11:32 pm, Feb 14)**

Don’t worry.  I won’t tell anyone.  :)

\- - - - -

**< Voicemail> Tina (5:20 pm, April 12)**

Why didn’t you tell me your dad was sick?  That was so _humiliating_!  You could have said something earlier!  Kurt!  You could have trusted me.   <pause>  But I hope your dad is okay.  I’ll cook for you guys and bring it over, if you want.  Talk to you later.

**From:  Kurt (7:04 pm, April 12)**

Hi.

**From:  Tina (7:05 pm, April 12)**

Are your dad and Carole okay?  I crossed my fingers for you guys..

**From:  Kurt (7:07 pm, April 12)**

Thank you.  You’ve got a good heart.  :)

**From:  Tina (7:07 pm, April 12)**

Sorry, I know how you feel about religion.  

**From:  Kurt (7:08 pm, April 12)**

He’s in remission.  We’re celebrating later, after my dad’s nap.

**From:  Tina (7:11 pm, April 12)**

Are you sure you didn’t pray?

**From:  Kurt (7:15 pm, April 12)**

**…**

**From:  Tina (7:16 pm, April 12)**

So I’ll make some of my mom’s escarole chicken soup and bring it over tomorrow, if that’s okay.  And chocolate cake.  

**From:  Kurt (7:18 pm, April 12)**

I’ve missed your cake.  Blaine says your special soup is good. :P

**From:  Tina (7:21 pm, April 12)**

Ha ha ha whatever.  Hey. I have to ask you something.

**From:  Tina (7:25 pm, April 12)**

Seriously, why didn’t you tell me about your dad?

**From:  Kurt (7:31 pm, April 12)**

I didn’t want to talk about it.  It’d make it all too real.  You’d hear about it anyway.  

**From: Tina (7:32 pm, April 12)**

We’re friends too.  Or are we?

**From:  Kurt (7:39 pm, April 12)**

We’re too alike, Tina.  Talking to you is scary.  It’s like talking to me.

**From:  Tina (7:41 pm, April 12)**

Weird,  but I’ll take the compliment. :)

**From:  Kurt (7:41 pm, April 12)**

Want to back me up on a song for my dad?  Only if you’re okay with it.  

**From:  Tina (7:41 pm, April 12)**

I’ll back you up whenever you need me to.

**From:  Kurt (7:42 pm, April 12)**

One day, I’ll return the favor.  You just have to ask.

\- - - - -

Tina passes over a tall half-caf vanilla latte without looking up from her paper.  “You know, the barista didn’t believe this drink was for you.”

“I like to change it up.  So, what're you working on?"  Kurt settles in at the table across from her and crosses his legs, so she can notice his new shoes. “Love how you add the touch of Goth to everything.”

"It's a dress I got off Ebay,” Tina says.  She holds the sketchbook up over her face.  Her design hits a few inches above the knee, and its cherry red tone will warm up her complexion.  “There will be a row of round gold-tone studs around the armholes, and my own sleeves. Here, look.”  She hands Kurt a stud and a swatch of black net.  

“Cute,”  Kurt says.  He raised up his cup and inhaled, letting the rich (synthetic) vanilla fill his nose completely.  The hominess of the little Lima Bean seeped into his bones, so he leaned back in his chair and reveled in the warmth.  As he drank, the smooth coffee lingered, hearty and familiar on the tongue, like Christmas, or Thanksgiving.  He stretched.  He’d always said he’d get the hell out of this town, but he’d never thought that he might sometimes be looking back.

“I am officially badass,”  says Tina.  She peeks below the sketchbook and nods approvingly.  “Black and white oxford wingtips, cute.”

“The word you're looking for is amazing,”  Kurt quips, and pushes back a stray strand from the front of his pompadour.  “What’s the dress for?”  

A bland expression falls over her features.  “I am an artist.  I express myself through my clothes and through my endearing, vaguely Zooey Deschanel-ish outlook on life.  A 60s’-era New Girl with a grittier feel.”  She abandons the sketchbook for her apple cider.

“Right.”  Kurt quirks up an eyebrow and rolls the gold studs between his fingers. “Are you sure that’s what this is?”

“Right.  Or at least until I find the next big thing.  Steampunk didn’t work out, so I’m on the lookout for something cute and different.”  She takes a huge gulp of her drink.  Kurt blinks.  “So, when are you heading back to New York?  Not that I’m trying to get rid of you or anything.”

“In a few days,”  he says, “so I’m saying goodbye, Tina.  You should come up to New York, take the weekend off.  Go see NYU. Tisch is a good school for the arts if you don’t want to go to NYADA.”

“And bring _Blaine_ with me?”  Tina teases.  With a wide, white grin, she leans over her drink and makes her fingers walk, step by step, across the table, to jiggle Kurt’s wrist.  “If I do, I might never see you.”

Kurt shrugs faux-casually.  “You could, if you wanted to.  I’m not going to say no.  Maybe it’s because I also miss your company.”

“You are so transparent,”  she giggles, bubbly and light,  “but I’m not playing fifth wheel.  I’m in with you guys completely or not at all.  I want to get out and experience everything New York can offer.”

“It’ll be fine.”  Kurt pats her hand.  “Sorry to rush out again, but I have to get home for Friday night dinner.  I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but we’ll text, okay?”

Tina tilts her head.  “I don’t hear from Rachel and Santana often, so you’ll just have to be the one to tell me all about the city. Okay?”  She offers him a dazzling smile.  “That’s what friends are for, right?”  She snatches the two empty cups and tosses them into the trash, humming.

Kurt watches her return to the table and narrows his eyes.  There was _something_ , he could sense a vibration  -  “What are you talking about, Tina?”

Tina brushes off her dress front.  “I’m an open book, as you know,”  she says smoothly, “but it doesn’t matter.  I honestly have nothing.  I’m just glad we could sit here and visit.”

Kurt shakes it off.  Maybe he was just imagining things.  “You know,”  he says, rising, “It’s been nice to come back and see everyone.  I miss Finn and Blaine, Mercedes and Sam, Britt and  _you_.”  He slips the swatch and stud back into her palm and rolls her fingers up over them.  “I should make it more of a thing, so… I’ll see you later, honey.”  

“I’ll see _you_ later, Kurt.”  Tina wiggles her eyebrows.  “And you’re welcome, any time.”

 


End file.
